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Holding Two Truths

February 25, 2026 by mountainmornings

We flew into BNA in the dead of night, back to chilly Nashville after a whirlwind birthday weekend with our One Year Old Grands. California was surprisingly green and rainy at first, but we didn’t mind. Memories of the NICU softened into a highlight reel of kind, competent nurses and long walks around Pasadena while we waited for the Twins to grow into themselves. And so they did. Music fills their home, and so our baby girls are fierce dancers and ready to perambulate!

The Twins’ Birthday coincided with the Chinese New Year; 2026 is the Year of the Horse that begins with the new moon and celebrations can last for weeks. Like Passover and Easter, it is considered a spring holiday; families will cook traditional foods and often give children tiny red envelopes with money to symbolize good luck and prosperity. Almost like finding the hidden matzoh, no? Aunt Kiki told us our baby girls have some Asian heritage since her Great Grandmother was Chinese.

We strolled among the red lanterns and drummers in the Garden of Flowing Fragrance at Huntington Botanical Gardens. “A number of flowers have special New Year’s significance in Chinese culture, including plum blossoms (symbolizing the beginning of spring), peonies (prosperity), narcissus (longevity), and other blooms such as orchids, forsythia, camellias, and golden mums.” We met a colorful dragon and watched Koi swim under foot bridges. Swimming comes naturally to our baby dumplings, they had just been in the Rose Bowl pool with their Daddy and PopBob.

The sun came out for their birthday party in the park the next day. Dogs came with balloons tied to their collars, children ran around blankets spread under trees like an Impressionist painting. I loved catching up with their creative friends and managed not to fall. Only falling deeper in love with my son’s wife, who juggled party planning and babies with grace. Since the Rocker has moved his studio into town, Kiki now has a pull-out sofa in her home office, and I was sorely tempted to stay longer.

I asked Bob how I managed to drive nine hours from Charlottesville to Nashville when the Love Bug was tiny. He just looked at me and said, “You were 13 years younger.”

I felt very old indeed last night while I tried to stay awake for the State of the Union. It was political theatre, reality TV. Or at least Mr T’s deluded version of reality. The NYTimes called it a “Tedious tiresome performance.” Republicans bobbing up and down, up and down in their seats. Hockey players and medals galore. I was waiting for him to go off script, hoping maybe the teleprompter might fail. All he did was smirk at the few Democrats in the House. Elizabeth Warren was paying attention, some were caught sleeping. One was yelling and yet another had to be forcibly removed with his sign scolding Mr T for a racist video he posted.

SCOTUS sat patiently in the front row, only to be derided by him for their recent decision on tariffs. No problem, he said, he’ll do a work-around. After all, he thinks he’s a king. I had enough and went to bed early.

I dreamt about singing to the Twins, about wheels on buses and Yiddish lullabies. And I woke thinking about Juan Ramirez, a devoted husband and father who ICE recently captured in Nashville, a worker who is here legally with documentation. He is not a criminal, and has now disappeared, leaving his wife, a young child and a ten day old baby behind. This is our alternate truth, our American paradox.

I was in charge of the Twins while the crew cleaned up!

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Wanna Nosh?

February 17, 2026 by mountainmornings

What a weekend!

Bob and I went glamping; we drove for two hours to Fall Creek Falls State Park in the easternmost corner of TN to meet up with our Germantown friends. We filled two cabins with great food, laughter and two new puppies. The meals we would create were pre-planned – Yoko and I got Valentine’s Day! February may be a short month, but it’s chock full of meaning. The Rocker and Aunt Kiki celebrated their ninth wedding anniversary, and their Twins are about to turn ONE! So it seems fitting that a holiday about love should be nestled in the middle.

I told Yoko I wanted to recreate the Bride’s wedding dinner under a tent on Thomas Jefferson’s mountain. I’d found an interesting take on shrimp and grits in the NYTimes Cooking App. This was also Grandma’s Ada favorite meal to order once she moved South. Yoko volunteered to make a chocolate cake with strawberries and whipped cream for dessert. Perfect. She would bake bread, and I would do a cheese plate as an appetizer. Also known as a nosh in Yiddish circles.

“Did you eat?“

There are certain cultures where that question is moot, since food will be presented whether you are hungry or not. When Bob and I landed at our cousin Peggy’s house during the deep freeze, she laid out a beautiful loaf of banana bread, followed by a pot of tea complete with lemons. I never felt so completely cared for in my life. It wasn’t just that our house was encased in ice and the temperature was plummeting, it was an all encompassing feeling of sanctuary. We had landed in a safe place with loved ones who didn’t ask anything of us except our attention to the snack on the table. She was nourishing our souls.

So of course I had to tell my glamping girlfriends about an article I’d read in the NYTimes about snacks. They all pulled out their phones to follow Snaxshot on Instagram https://www.instagram.com/snaxshot/?hl=en. Andrea Hernandez is not a dietician, but she was into marketing and noticed something about food during the pandemic. She is akin to a cultural anthropologist, comparing the fascination with “Fiber” in the 50s and 60s to today’s fixation on Protein and prebiotic sodas like Olipop – designed with 9 grams of plant-based fiber to enhance digestive health! I was actually shocked when I was asked for my ID in order to buy cans of a non-alcoholic sparkling raspberry rose for our Valentine dinner. What’s up with that?

Hernandez has become “… a kind of snacking Nostradamus. ‘When Andrea covers a product or a shift, it tends to ripple within the industry,’ said Melanie Masarin, the founder of the nonalcoholic aperitif brand Ghia, in an email, noting that Ms. Hernández’s observations have a way of showing up in group chats, brand conversations and beyond.… According to data from the consumer research firm NIQ, the (snack) market was worth $213 billion in the latest 52-week period. “It used to be like, I would go to the grocery store, I could choose between Kraft or Annie’s or homemade macaroni and cheese,” said Oren John, a branding and marketing creator based in Orange County, Calif., and one of Snaxshot’s early fans. ‘Now I have 45 macaroni and cheese options.’” https://www.nytimes.com/2025/08/29/dining/andrea-hernandez-snaxshot.html?searchResultPosition=5

If you’re lucky enough to live as long as I have, you’ve probably noticed this shift in snack food. Our mothers would put out nuts and maybe some Chex mix when company was coming. Today there’s an entire industry devoted to charcuterie boards. Dr Jim gifted us an incredible board for the holidays, complete with bowls and tiny forks and knives! Thanks big brother. Remember when a potato chip was simply a potato chip? Now they can be baked, flavored and shaped to hold a cupful of guacamole. In fact, chips can take up an entire aisle in the grocery store, and sold out faster than wings before the Benito Bowl.

In a world where MAHA has tipped the food triangle on its side, it’s up to us to decide what to put on our family’s table, and what kind of a nosh might be healthy and not just trendy. When we were in Mexico, the Twins were introduced to some of the last remaining food allergens for babies. It helps to have a few doctors nearby when they took their first bite of shellfish! Thankfully, they happen to love peanut butter, a uniquely American spread!

What do you snack on while watching the Winter Olympics? That’s Yoko on the left, and Bob is standing with the ladies. I’m third from the right with my hiking stick. I guess I really am shrinking!

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The Sound of Chainsaws

February 9, 2026 by mountainmornings

I wake to the sound of chainsaws in the morning. FEMA drives along our streets, picking up piles of trees with a gigantic claw, like the roadside children’s arcade full of stuffed toys. One day we saw the National Guard cutting up limbs in our neighborhood; I felt conflicted, happy to see them but still wary of their motives because our government can no longer be trusted. We have become a nation where people disappear. We have become a nation with an ICE body count.

The ice storm clean up continues as robins reappear in our yard and the temperature climbs toward 70 degrees today. Finches vie for position at the BirdBuddy feeder, sparrows become aggressive. My phone lights up, seems there’s a party going on – a downy woodpecker is clinging to the side and pecking through the seeds, scattering many below for the squirrels! Then a brilliant red cardinal swoops in, all captured by the tiny camera linked to our WiFi. These are the moments of joy that sustain me. Birds and bunnies…

“THE ONLY THING MORE POWERFUL THAN HATE IS LOVE”

We watched the Super Bowl aka ‘Benito Bowl’ last night with our Nashville family. I made a NYTimes recipe for chicken teriyaki that is loosely associated with Seattle: “In Seattle, teriyaki is omnipresent, the closest this city comes to a Chicago dog.” https://www.nytimes.com/2010/01/06/dining/06unit.html You might be asking why a former Pittsfield, MA resident was rooting for the West Coast. My brother Dr Jim told me the Seahawks quarterback was traded from the Vikings, after winning 14 games; it was a stupid move. So this ex-NewEnglandFan reveled in the Washington victory via Minnesota, if you get my drift.

The Bride served Mexican with ALL the fixins; and some of us actually watched the football game. The Pumpkin, a fledgling rock guitarist himself, was impressed with Green Day while I felt tugged back to the 90s with a heavy metal band in my garage. Did you know that Green Day’s front man Billie Joe Armstrong had urged ICE agents to quit their jobs at one of the pre-bowl-super-parties? He said Mr T would drop them like rocks when the MAGA gig was up, and that they should, “Come on this side of the line.”

But Bad Bunny’s Halftime Show brought Latina music and culture home. HOLA! He was brilliant, and his message of inclusivity was apparent to everyone. In between letting dogs in and out and guacamole with tacos, I found myself moving to the beat. I didn’t quite understand how Lady Gaga fit into the scene, but Ricky Martin was a sight for sore eyes. I loved him before and after he came out as a gay man, and I adore seeing him on Apple’s “Palm Royale.” I bet Carol Burnett enjoys working with his sexy pool boy character. Season 2 is a blast people.

Meanwhile, silence is filling the House as Ghislaine Maxwell pleads the Fifth this morning. I’m shocked! She appeared virtually from her clubhouse prison with her emotional support dog where she is serving time on sex-trafficking charges. Her lawyer wrote on X, “Ms. Maxwell is prepared to speak fully and honestly if granted clemency by President Trump.” Which sounds like a Catch 22 if I ever heard one – the guy who wants to shield himself and his friends, the billionaires who frequented Epstein’s parties, is supposed to pardon her so she can tell the truth? Good luck with that.

Tonight the sound of Mahjongg tiles will also bring me joy. I’m starting to get the hang of it and I’m feeling proud of myself, learning something new. Stretching my mind a bit. And I’ve got a little whistle in my purse now, in case I need to put my lips together, and blow.

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Sun Melts ICE

February 3, 2026 by mountainmornings

Our little Nashville cottage has warmed up. The Pumpkin helped me make vegetable soup. My friend Les delivered a loaf of bread, and we walked across the street to see her majestic ash tree covering her pool; it just missed her porch by a few feet. Another neighbor helped Bob chop up an evergreen that fell on our HVAC. Guess we’ll see if the air conditioning works in a couple of months. We cleaned out the refrigerator/freezer, and replaced whatever food survived their exile to the garage – the free-standing garage we finally got permitted to turn into a DADU (detached, auxiliary, dwelling, unit).

It will have its own address, but we had to sign and swear we would never AirBnB it – those are the new Metro rules. Only for family, friends and climate refugees, we said.

Yesterday with the ice melting, I dug out my trusty hiking sticks and set off for a walk in the neighborhood. It was a beautiful, 45 degree, sunny day. We talked to a new friend with a 10 week old rescue puppy named Harrington. An adorable black lab mix with white socks, he’s named after a Stranger Things character. Since the Pumpkin (who knows all things about Stranger Things) is back in school, I had to look up Steve Harrington. It seems the pup’s avatar plays the stereotypical, lovable jock who was supposed to be killed off in the first season, but won the hearts of his audience. So the writers had to give him a “redemption arc.” And it struck me that with the release of more Epstein files, some very powerful men are seeking the same sort of salvation. 

Let’s not forget that Marjorie Taylor Green warned us about Mr T’s furor over releasing the Epstein files. He didn’t want all his buddies getting into trouble. But the “Epstein Class,” composed of high-ranking government, academic, legal, corporate and even royal people, is just beginning to feel the consequences of their association with a known pedophile and sex trafficker. Like Andrew formerly known as Prince, tomorrow Lord Mandelson will step down from the House of Lords. Some are even calling for his removal from peerage, whatever that means. The British have no appetite for a redemption story. We, OTOH, are always willing to buy into salvation.

After all, Epstein reinvented himself after his conviction in 2008, pleading guilty to prostitution charges. Remember there was a major recession at the time the FL pimp to billionaires got his sweetheart deal. What will happen to Bill Gates, Steve Bannon, Bill Clinton, Peter Thiel, Deepak Chopra and Noam Chomsky? The ex-President of Harvard, Larry Summers, married father of six, emails Epstein for romantic advice about a young woman he was ‘mentoring.’ At least he stepped down from his many Board postions. But it wasn’t until they were caught, it wasn’t until the evidence of their fawning association with Epstein became apparent, that we are hearing their excuses. And as every child learns in school, ignorance of the law (if we believe they were ignorant) is NO defense!

Dr Peter Attia, a billionaire longevity guru, is now ashamed of his old friend Epstein. Sorry he joked with him about female body parts. Let’s stop calling Epstein a financier, he was a pimp. The language we use helps to shape our understanding of the world, so I’m re-naming things, like ICE is really our very own secret police. Detention camps are concentration camps where we ship brown people without due process – where we hold five year old children without their mothers. Remember Mr T coming down the gold escalator calling undocumented people rapists and murderers? If we allow the Republican party to call Mr Pretti a terrorist, well then it becomes easier to kidnap and murder people in American cities.

I’m not looking for a redemption arc. I’m looking for sunshine laws to reveal this corrupt class for who they really are. Only the sun can melt the historic ice storm we experienced in Nashville, only the sun can break us out of this chrysalis of apathy. And if you want to help fight our country’s slide into authoritarianism, you can start by attending a virtual meet-up on Thursday of like-minded souls, “Eyes on ICE” https://www.mobilize.us/nokings/event/892452/

 

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A Deep Freeze

January 27, 2026 by mountainmornings

We got the news out of Minnesota later in the day. It was hard to believe, until we saw the footage. An ICU nurse, filming armed, masked DHS agents pushing a person to the ground. Within seconds, Alex Pretti, RN tries to help but is wrestled to the ground and shot ten times. He had his phone in his hand, not a gun.

I felt the country pause.

First Ms Good, and now Mr Pretti. How can this be happening in a democratic republic? The federal agents backed away, they left him bleeding out on the ground. They didn’t call him a bitch, no they called him a terrorist and Kristi Noem was quick to point out it was all his fault. He was a licensed gun owner after all.

And as if to cover our national shame, a sheet of ice, real sleet, snow and ice descended from the heavens. Non-stop snaps and trees popping, breaking, their branches weighed down by ice. We lost our power early Sunday morning, kaput!

The Bride and Groom came over to escort us to their house where a blazing gas fireplace kept us all warm. Bob had cut off the main water valve and drained our pipes. He even drained the tankless water heater. I brought my knitting and a good book.

The Bride made French onion soup. Plus we had leftover potato soup and chicken pot pie. No WiFi but plenty of tasty treats.

A pottery friend came to camp with us after losing power. Then my daughter and son-in-law went next door to check on an elderly couple. Thankfully, she convinced them to move to a friend’s house who had a generator. Their core temps were low and the man’s mentation was faltering.

This is what neighbors do. This is community, We show up for one another. We don’t allow armed thugs to kidnap people, to kill people on our streets.

We’ve moved again to our sweet cousin Peg and Paul’s house. They never lost power. She baked a banana bread and made us tea. Feeling like a climate refugee, Feeling like I don’t recognize my country anymore. Tonight I’ll take a hot shower

Here’s the view from my BirdBuddy

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Building a Sandbox

January 20, 2026 by mountainmornings

When our children were little, we built them a sandbox in the Berkshires. And when we moved back to NJ, and the Rocker was only 2 years old, Bob got to work building another sandbox with a fort on top. I remember one of the Bride’s young friends coming over to play and being astonished – she was reluctant to get her hands ‘dirty.’ Only seven years old, this suburban youngster thought ‘shopping’ was great fun, not digging in sand.

Maybe you know where this is going?

Or maybe you’re thinking what is wrong with her, why is she talking about sandboxes when our country seems to be going down the drain. ICE is emboldened by our leaders to disrupt peaceful protests and kidnap people in broad daylight. Our allies are discussing what in blazes needs to be done about Mr T who cannot stop threatening Greenland; their ‘soft’ diplomacy is not working. Macron said at Davos, that tariffs cannot “…be used as leverage against territorial sovereignty.” And Mr T cares what French President Emmanuel Macron has to say?

In fact, T took a screenshot of Macron’s text, where he begins with, “My Friend…” Then he continues with the good stuff, how our countries are aligned about Syria and Iran. And even though Macron refused to join the Gaza “Board of Peace,” he invited Mr T to Paris and offers to set up a G7 meeting. Macron is conciliatory, he wants Mr T to play in his sandbox. You know, the post WWII playground after fascism was defeated. And finally, the reason for Macron’s DM,

“I do not understand what you are doing on Greenland.” Well join the club!

“France has publicly been much more forceful in response to the U.S. president’s threats to tariff European allies who do not support his designs on Greenland. Macron has pushed for the EU to unleash its Anti-Coercion Instrument, the the so-called trade bazooka, while other leaders like German Chancellor Friedrich Merz want to give a chance to diplomacy. France has also sent a small contingent of troops to Greenland and is planning to deploy land, sea and air forces, though the details remain unspecified.” https://www.politico.eu/article/emmanuel-macron-decoded-text-message-donald-trump/

Totalitarianism seems to be cropping up and tilting the world order toward the right. And if we think of our Allies in their own sandbox, large and in charge for many decades, we can understand why they are talking about pulling out all the stops with the diplomatic equivalent of a rocket-propelled anti-tank weapon! Mr T is like a seven year old bully who is biting and pushing his way through life, demanding loyalty and whining when he isn’t awarded the Nobel Peace Prizle.

He loves to play in the sandbox, except he throws sand in everyones’ eyes.

I lived through Watergate and I wonder when the Republicans will stop making excuses for his behavior. Maybe a journalist, maybe someone from a small, local paper say in Florida, will dig up evidence of the extent of his involvement with Epstein. Maybe someone will film one of his total mental breakdowns after not getting his way, maybe on the golf course? Someone said he is a malicious narcissist, but is that enough to invoke the 25th Amendment?

I asked my brother Dr Jim, who was an Army officer in Vietnam, if our generals would actually invade Greenland, would they follow his unlawful orders? After all, they abducted Maduro, remember? Jim didn’t think so. The rest of my family is not so sure. Maybe we Americans are preparing to jump over to a new sandbox, one full of dictators and bullies. But I hope not.

I hope we can help the Rocker and Aunt Kiki build a sandbox for the Twins. Right now, not quite 11 months, they will try to eat the sand; but soon they will learn how to dig and sculpt the sand and share their toys. I hope they will not learn the word “MINE” too soon. This is the Bride and the Rocker helping us build their sandbox around 1986.

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Health vs Wellness

January 13, 2026 by mountainmornings

This morning I had an appointment with a new physical therapist. Bob calls him a magic man, because he has mapped out what muscles fire and where to create strength. And as I was giving him a short history of my osteoporosis journey, Bob felt compelled to point one thing out…

“She fell last year and broke her neck.”

I had forgotten to mention it. The day before the election of Donald Trump I nearly killed myself. Oops. Did I subconsciously know what was about to happen? Have I blocked it so completely from my mind that all I could talk about was cleaning out the bird bath, keeling over and breaking my clavicle?

The smart bird feeder has been installed on the side of the garage. So far we have two house finches and a Carolina chickadee in residence. It’s actually a godsend. I pick up my phone to a notification that my Birdbuddy had a visitor, and I promptly forget what I was going to do. Instead I watch a video of a bird chowing down, on guard for any other visitors.

I guess this is how we are now, on guard, distilled to a primal fear of being gunned down in the street by masked men. First our president kidnaps Maduro, and then an ICE agent shoots a woman three times in the head for making good trouble.

How can I talk about my fear of falling again, when people I know and love are risking their lives simply by peacefully protesting this totalitarian government? The last time I was protesting at the TN State House, I actually thanked the state troopers for keeping us safe. I looked into their eyes.

But this is different.

We need more Republicans to wake up. When Mr T tells us that only his own sense of morality can stop him, we need to listen. Because he thinks he can get away with anything. He can slap his name on the Kennedy Center. He can demolish the East Wing of the White House. He can buy a country!

Well I’m not for sale. And there are millions of us who will fight for our constitution. We know the difference between a healthy separation of powers and a grifter selling wellness to a fearful citizenry.

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Charge d’Affaire

January 6, 2026 by mountainmornings

It’s not everyday that we wake to the news that our country is at war.

At Sunday dinner, I told my family this is the first time I’ve felt the way I did after 9/11. It’s a loosening of the joints, the ground feels sandy. There is a loss of trust in our country’s standing in the world, my sense of balance was off. Granted, there was no terrorist attack; Russia didn’t take over Alaska, or Florida as far as we know. We were the aggressor this time.

Naturally, I ordered a Smart Solar Pro Bird Feeder! Because when chaos happens, we humans need to zero in on the little things. I was hesitant to order a feeder with a camera attached because I knew it would call me to pick up my cell phone whenever a bird landed. I would become addicted. But I’ve missed feeding the birds of Nashville. Yesterday I walked out my front door and heard three distinct woodpeckers drumming their trees from the west, east and south!

Today Bob is walking around our backyard with a Google guy checking our WiFi signal. I want to hang the feeder far enough away from the house so our patio furniture stays relatively clean. I have memories of twenty doves taking up residence on our Germantown porch. This is how we become enmeshed in our hobbies, incrementally, over time. Hoarding doesn’t happen overnight. Like Mr T saying and doing things unbecoming to an American president…

One day we are blowing up supposed drug traffickers off the coast of Venezuela, and the next, America abducts its president and his wife? Today the “Coalition of the Willing” is meeting in Paris with Ukraine’s president, and Europe is betting on whether or not POTUS will invade GREENLAND! The KIngdom of Denmark, which includes Greenland, is part of NATO so what in God’s name is happening?

We know that MR T’s abduction (was he captured, arrested, or kidnapped?) of Maduro was not about spreading democracy, it’s all about the money and power that OIL has to offer:

“Venezuela has the largest estimated oil reserves in the world—accounting for about 17 percent of global reserves, or more than 300 billion barrels, according to Oil & Gas Journal. But Venezuela produces only 1 million barrels of oil a day. Its potential is largely unrealized because of poor infrastructure, mismanagement, limited resources, and U.S. sanctions.”  https://www.theatlantic.com/national-security/2026/01/trump-nicolas-maduro-venezuela/685493/

Would Greenland even put up a fight? What would happen to NATO? Is the point to destabilize the world order, or is Mr T just going after rare-earth minerals and uranium mining in the Arctic? Please call your Congressman or woman today. Let them know that all of this is illegal. Some one has to stand up for the rule of law. Some one has to actually read all 125,575 pages of the Epstein files and demand that the rest, about TWO MILLION documents, be released as per the agreement with the DOJ.

And we have to put up our new bird feeder. This is a Yellow-Crowned Night Heron who spent his days perched in a palm tree outside our vacation house. He watched the pelicans and the iguanas very closely! Luckily, we returned home before Caribbean airspace was closed.

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Profiles

December 30, 2025 by mountainmornings

I used to write one page biographies for a newspaper. Usually it was a Sunday edition, “Write about an ordinary person doing something extraordinary,” my editor would say. It was nice to have some autonomy; to be able to pick my subject and sit down with them for an hour or two. I didn’t like doing phone interviews and Zoom was just a thing my cat did on occasion. I found that if you listen long enough, and look into someone’s eyes, you can always find a kernel of truth in their story. The story they tell themselves.

Lately journalists have delved into the depths of MAGA world. While I was traveling last week with the family, I searched high and low for the new Vanity Fair in foreign and domestic airports. I was dying to read the profile of Mr T’s Chief of Staff, Susie Wiles. Going back decades, a total news blackout has been our custom on vacation – so no TV, no NYTimes (except for the Games section). But if I could just get my hands on the magazine… and sorry to say, the new Vanity Fair had not hit the news stands yet.

Wiles intrigued me. She looked like one of my Irish aunts – petite, grey-haired bob, sweet, funny, baking pies and cookies for holidays. But she was the person behind the President of these United States, and also sitting on his right side and steering the ship. The second most powerful political figure in the world – in fact, she is the first woman to hold this White House position! And all I could get on social media was that Wiles said Mr T has an “alcoholic’s personality.” What does that even mean?

According to the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation, there are a number of traits that many alcoholics seem to suffer from: “…low frustration tolerance; impulsivity; low rejection threshold; low sense of one’s own worth; and they are loners and afraid of intimacy.” Maybe some of that is true, but a low sense of Mr T’s worth? If anything, the POTUS is a would be king, a narcissist in every sense of that word. My question is what does this description of her boss say about Wiles?

Wiles mentions that she grew up with an alcoholic father. But maybe she feels like the wife of an alcoholic – always pleading for him to reconsider impulsive decisions, stepping on eggshells whenever she is around him. It was ironic to learn that she also worked for Ronald Reagan, as a scheduler and in his Labor Department. Mostly she worked on Republican campaigns over the years with no experience in the federal government. I picture her as a bullfighter, a highly choreographed master manipulator of the bull in the White House.

And now Marjorie Taylor Greene, the MAGA boss lady turned ‘traitor,’ has earned herself a profile in the NYTimes Magazine. This turncoat Representative from Georgia always turned me off. I dismissed her as a kook. But reporter Robert Draper interviewed her before and after her conversion and I’m willing to believe he captured her journey perfectly. It all started when she spoke with some of the Epstein victims and threatened to release the names of the powerful men involved. Mr T’s response, on speakerphone in her Congressional office, was so loud and abusive everyone heard him claiming not to want some of his friends hurt. (wink, wink).

In Greene’s mind this represented “… everything wrong with Washington,” adding that it was a story of “rich, powerful elites doing horrible things and getting away with it. And the women are the victims.” https://www.nytimes.com/2025/12/29/magazine/marjorie-taylor-greene-interview-takeaways.html?unlocked_article_code=1.AlA.AFU7.jW9VSVlIj-p4&smid=url-share

Gone are the days when Martha Mitchell could be gaslit for telling the truth about Watergate. I believe Greene has had a change of heart and I’m sorry she is resigning her seat in the new year. But I’m glad independent journalists are doing their jobs. I’d love to get Greene and Wiles in a room together, two different generations of women in the Republican stratosphere. Wiles attended the Academy of the Holy Angels in NJ so I’m presuming she’s Catholic or catholic-light-Episcopalian, and Greene makes a big point about being a Christian. Surely they could agree about something?

We’re back in Nashville and I’m missing my morning cuddles with the Grandbabies. They are water nymphs, I loved watching them discover new birds and flowers at our cozy cottage. They are on the move and have just learned how to share their toys. Which is more than I can say about the alcoholic/adolescent/addled boys in the White House.

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Where Does the Iguana Sleep?

December 23, 2025 by mountainmornings

We have five iguanas at our vacation house.

I imagine they are a family, the parents and three babies. They love to stroll around the pool in the middle of the day, taking their time, enjoying the sun. It’s siesta time for us, so have at it reptiles!

But when the sun goes down, I imagine their cold-blooded bodies must seek out a warm and tidy hiding spot. They sunbathe with impunity, so I’m sure there are no predators here on this coastline. One night I will get my flashlight and try to find them.

Do they sleep in the pot of bougainvillea?

Do they smoosh into the terracotta roof tiles?

Do they doze in the palm tree?

Or maybe they take up residence on the couch, their long fingers clutching a pillow, and watch the Nature Channel on TV long into the night.

If you were an iguana, where would you sleep? Would you make a cup of tea, and read a story about a rabbit to your babies? I would leave the window open so I could hear the waves crash and see the sun rise.

I would not worry about tomorrow, or the day after that. I would have no regrets. I would sashay my long tail back and forth back and forth around the sunshine.

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